


And If I Should Falter

by okayokayigive



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayokayigive/pseuds/okayokayigive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s one of those moments in which time slows, slows and hangs, waiting. And he hangs, too - suspended and breathless, waiting for her. (Nine/Rose)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And If I Should Falter

**Author's Note:**

> Having a kind of meh day + acoustic Erasure + Nine/Rose feels = flangst? (Fluffy angst, yes?) I don’t even know.

It’s one of those moments.

One of those moments, painful and clear, when he could fall into her eyes and not give a shit about pulling himself out.

One of those moments where he catches himself, breath hitching, fingers twitching, and he just…wants. Not primally, not like some of the myths and legends about his people would imply. But oh, he wants.

He wants to step forward, to close the gap between them, to ring her waist with his hands.

He wants to press soft kisses to her lips, her cheeks, her throat.

He wants to open himself to her, to the future the timelines say he can have with her, to the promise of not-quite-forever-but-damn-near-close-enough.

And in those moments, every so often, he thinks she might want it too.

But he can’t.

Not because he’s a broken solider (even though he is), and not because he’s an old man who’s seen too much (although he has).

But because he’s scared.

Because he knows what it’s like to love. Because he has loved more deeply, more passionately, more intensely than he can ever explain.

And yes, he’s lost - lost everyone and everything - but it’s not that at all.

The losing is easy, in comparison.

Losing is easier than not being loved in return. To not being loved in equal measure.

And this? This isn’t love anyway.

What he feels, what he wants…it’s not love. It’s more, somehow. Or at least he _wants_ more. Love, to him, is caring, sure. But on Gallifrey, it was almost…worship. Devotion. A state of dedication. Single-sided adoration. Something that you hoped, dreamed would be returned, but rarely was.

Susan found it. She found David, and they had…something. Something more than love.

It’s why he had to leave her behind.

It’s what he dreams of with Rose.

He wants to hold and to be held. He wants to catch her when she falls…but he wants her to catch him, too.

And in those moments, he thinks maybe she could. That maybe she would.

~~

It’s one of those moments.

It’s a moment when he looks at her, and she looks at him, and he decides.

To take a step.

To make that leap.

To trust her with his secrets, in hope that he might one day trust her with his heart.

He reaches out, hands around her waist like he’s always wanted to do, and presses his forehead into hers.

He closes his eyes for a moment to gather his strength. Opens them to her confused gaze. Takes a deep breath…and tells her everything.

He doesn’t talk of the war, nor of the Time Lords or the Daleks or the Nightmare Child or the final moments of Gallifrey.

He tells her of his life, of his loves, of his hearts broken too many times over.

He tells her how his wife’s coldness crushed his soul. Of the ways his daughter followed suit. Of his Susan, so rich in love and emotion that he had to steal her away…and then leave her behind.

He tells her how he longs for a partnership, a match of equals, of love and respect and arms cinched tight and openness and knowing that there’s always someone to turn to, when things are good, when things are bad, when things are worse.

He tells her he wants so much more than a plus one.

He tells her he wants it with her.

And closes his eyes. And lets out a breath.

And waits for his world to crumble.

She pulls his hands from her waist, and his shoulders slump in defeat.

But she doesn’t let go.

She takes his hands in hers, squeezes them tight, says his name.

When he looks, her eyes are shining, her cheeks wet…but she’s smiling as she leans in and presses a kiss to his lips.

He watches, awed, as she laughs quietly and offers to be the big spoon.

(He doesn’t know what that means, but she’s a willing teacher. And as it turns out, it means everything.)


End file.
